<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>stitches by Demi_Fae</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27122621">stitches</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demi_Fae/pseuds/Demi_Fae'>Demi_Fae</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2020 [20]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Serious Injuries, nothing super graphoc but its there</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:29:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>824</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27122621</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demi_Fae/pseuds/Demi_Fae</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Kix was a trained Medic. It was his job, what he had literally been born to do, and he was good at it. </p>
<p>So why did it feel that more of his patients died in his arms than survived?<br/>-<br/>Day 20: Lost | <b>Field Medicine</b> | Medieval</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2020 [20]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1930612</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>stitches</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Kix was a trained Medic. It was his job, what he had literally been born to do, and he was good at it. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>So why did it feel that more of his patients died in his arms than survived?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kix stared down at the shiny held in his arms. They had just picked out their name yesterday and announced it at the mess hall. There had been a party, for Smile and the others, to try and give them enough good luck to last the month. For how shit the party was- really just eating their rations slightly faster and singing, maybe drinking some alcohol- the shinies had loved it. It was their first after all. If they had made it through this month, another ceremony would be thrown to last the next two months, then three, then however long until this</span>
  <em>
    <span> damn war was over- </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But it didn't matter, not for Smile. Not for Knox, or Jinx, or Fripper or any of the other shines that had been surrounded by brothers and celebrating just the day before, because-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were all lying here now. Dead on the battlefield. Forgotten except for when they were stumbled over by the living. The battle raged on around them, killing more like it always did, endless until it wasn’t. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kix stared back down at Smile. It was the best name for him, honestly- he had always been ready with a joke or a shoulder to cry on if a brother needed it. He was never not</span>
  <em>
    <span> smiling, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and even in death his flat eyes seemed to be trying to comfort Kix and tell him to move on, help the others, he'd be fine-</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kix took a breath and tore his eyes away from Smile's. There were other clones that needed saving here, needed Kix the Medic and not Kix the Broken Soldier. He cursed himself for forgetting, for even a moment, how much he</span>
  <em>
    <span> couldn't stop </span>
  </em>
  <span>and how much he</span>
  <em>
    <span> needed to keep moving. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Not for himself, never for himself, but to help his remaining brothers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn't know why Smile was still on his mind as he ran to the next clone, patching then up enough to survive the next hour or so. Even as Kix dealt with clones who had been ripped apart, beaten to death, or had so many blaster wounds he wasn’t sure where one ended and the next began, Smile was the one who stuck with him. He didn't know why he couldn't stop thinking about his laugh, his eyes, his wound as he bled out in Kix's arms- Through all the blood on Kix’s hands that day, Smile’s was the brightest. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn't know why Smile was the straw that finally broke the bantha's back, only that he was. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But just like every other time Kix had had one too many people die in his arms, just like every other time Kix had had to distance himself from his brothers, his family, his blood in order to choose who lives or dies- he pieced himself back together. He used his own needle and thread to stitch his heart back together from where it had been shot on the battlefield, and he shoved it behind him to cry over later. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Right now there were other, more important things to be fixed. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kix turned his attention back to the dead and the dying before him. Flashes of blaster bolts, some hitting targets and others not, shone in his vision. The smell of blood and vomit mixed with the planet's natural scent, the unnatural tang on a lightsaber just underneath. He could hear his general just a little further away, the smell of burnt flesh humming in his memories. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hundreds of his brothers would die today. Thousands or millions across the galaxy. It was Kix’s job to try and decrease that number (just slightly, ever so slightly, never enough to matter-). </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Medic!” They were screaming. Screaming for him. For Kix to come save them, set aside himself and his breakdown to do his job. He closed his eyes, and for a moment, he was back in the caf. Surrounded by his brothers who were all laughing and cheering. Congratulating the shinies who chose their name, who received their first scratches, their first paint. He locked eyes with Smile across the room. He nodded at Kix as if to say “Go on.” Kix choked back a sob. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kix opened his eyes back to the battlefield, smoke everywhere and screaming every second. He looked to the blood splattered across his armor, then the clones scattered across battlefields. Some were alone. Others held onto each other as they both laid dying. Still others had a brother crying over them like Kix had held to Smile not so long ago. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kix locked eyes with the closest living clone he could find. Their eyes were so similar, and yet so different from Smile’s. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And Kix got back to work. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>You can yell at me on tumblr at <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/rynae-reblogs">rynae-reblogs</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>